[DING!]
[Connection established: Intimacy with a 9.8-Grade Genius female.]
[Target Satisfaction: 23%]
[Calculating Rewards:]
3,500 Affinity Coins (AC)
600 Opposite Coins (OC)
Technique: Merdun Lightning
Item: Death Breath Runestone (x2)
[WARNING: Host's body is in a critical state. Death probability: 98%.]
[Immediate restoration is recommended. Cost: 2,000 AC. Do you wish to proceed?]
Ardam's eyes were bloodshot, his breathing a jagged, rattling sound like a rusted saw cutting through dry wood. His consciousness was slipping into a cold, bottomless void. With the last shred of his will, he forced a single word through his cracked lips: "Yes..."
In that instant, the silence of the lakeside was shattered. A golden aura erupted around Ardam, spinning into a violent gale that made the very air tremble. Beneath his shriveled, parchment-like skin, a wave of warmth surged. It felt as though boiling water had been poured into a frozen river; the stagnant blood in his veins began to pulse with a defiant, newfound life. The agony vanished, replaced by a delicate, revitalizing heat. As his lungs expanded, drawing in deep, hungry gulps of air, exhaustion finally claimed him, and Ardam plunged into a dreamless sleep.
The morning sun danced across the surface of the lake. When Ardam opened his eyes, every cell in his body felt renewed. He stood up—no longer a paralyzed mummy, but a man reborn. His muscles were lean and coiled, his skin smooth and vibrant.
He glanced down, realizing he was entirely naked. The previous night's "Kiss of Death" had left his clothes in scorched ribbons.
Splash!
A sudden sound from the water's edge snapped him into focus. Ardam turned sharply.
A girl stood by the lake. Her fiery red hair glowed like embers in the sunlight, but her pale face was flushed a deep crimson with a mixture of shame and fury. A silver water flask lay at her feet, having slipped from her hand just moments ago.
A heavy, suffocating silence hung between them. The girl's eyes narrowed into icy slits. "You shameless... pervert!" she screamed.
A violent surge of energy erupted from her. She thrust her palm toward Ardam, and an invisible shockwave tore through the air, hitting him with the force of a battering ram. Ardam was sent flying ten meters, crashing into the dense undergrowth. A dull thud echoed, but to his own surprise, Ardam felt no real pain. The restoration had hardened his frame beyond recognition.
By the time he scrambled out of the bushes and wiped the dust from his skin, the girl was gone. Ardam gathered the remains of his tunic, dressed as best he could, and called out internally: System.
[DING!]
[Host: Ardam Cray]
[Age: 25]
[Status: Disciple of the Shadow Sword Sect]
[Attributes:]
Body: 15
Strength: 9
Cultivation: 2 Erta Veins
Erta Reserve: 50 URC
"Explain the rewards," Ardam commanded, tracking the shift in his stats.
[Available Balance:]
1,500 AC: Used for body modification, accelerating cultivation, and mastering techniques.
600 OC (Opposite Coin): Used exclusively for those of the opposite sex. Can be spent to heal, boost cultivation, or enhance the physical allure of others.
[WARNING]: OC usage requires physical contact. The closer and more prolonged the contact, the more OC can be utilized.
Ardam's eyes drifted to the next items.
Technique: Merdun Lightning
Origin: [Information Locked]
Rank: [Information Locked]
Note: Mastery can be achieved instantly through AC expenditure.
Death Breath Runestone:
A one-time-use artifact that saves the Host from inevitable death. It can fully reconstruct a body regardless of the severity of damage.
Ardam clenched his fists. The world was still a cruel, unforgiving place, but now, he held the keys to the engine.
When Ardam stepped back through the gates of the Shadow Sword Sect, the air grew thick with tension. Disciples and servants alike froze in their tracks, watching him with sideways glances and hushed whispers. Ardam ignored them, moving through the crowd like a shadow through a void. He had one destination: his dilapidated hut in the far corner of the sect.
After washing and changing into a fresh set of robes, he looked into a mirror. The face looking back no longer held the hollow gaze of a victim.
"Ardam..."
A measured voice from outside pulled him from his thoughts. Ardam stepped out to find Elder Bermis waiting. The Elder's eyes were sharp, searching Ardam's face for an explanation.
Ardam bowed out of habit. "Health to you, Elder..."
"Where have you been?" Bermis cut him off, his voice cold.
"Just... resting," Ardam replied, keeping his tone flat.
"For two weeks?" Bermis's brow furrowed.
Ardam's heart skipped. "What? Two weeks?"
"You left the sect fourteen days ago, Ardam. Not a word since," Bermis said, his voice softening slightly. "Are you well? I heard you and Karot had a... disagreement. Did he do something to you?"
Ardam realized the truth: the restoration process after the Kiss of Death hadn't taken a single night. It had devoured half a month.
"I appreciate the concern, Elder. I am fine," Ardam said, pivoting the conversation. "Tell me, why is the sect so restless today?"
Bermis sighed heavily. "The Successor Tournament is approaching."
"Successor Tournament? What is that?"
"The Snake Track Sect has announced its closure," Bermis explained. "They are selling their assets and ancient techniques. Our sect decided to buy them out, but the Dance of Death Sect has emerged as a rival buyer. If it were a smaller power, we would have crushed them. But they are nearly our equal. To avoid a full-scale war, it was decided that the dispute would be settled through a tournament of successors."
Bermis looked toward the main square. "The victor takes everything. It's not just the wealth; we would gain over 150 experienced cultivators. All the successors, grandchildren, and children of the Elders are gathering. My own granddaughter, Termina, arrived this morning."
A flash of pride crossed the old man's face. "I will introduce you when the time is right."
Ardam's eyes turned icy. "What is the prize, Elder?"
"Drake is furious," Bermis whispered. "He wants this victory more than anything. He has put up a million Gartu, 300 high-grade Formation Stones, and three 9th-Stage Power Pills. Plus, the title of 'Esteemed Disciple' for the winner."
Bermis looked at Ardam with a touch of pity. "Why do you ask? Only those at the 1st-Rank Warrior level or higher can participate. In your state..."
Ardam didn't wait for the end of the sentence. His mind was already calculating. He bowed and walked away without a word.
Ardam stopped before the massive gates of the Training Grounds. For years, this building had been a monument to his failure. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd set foot here—the day his hope had finally flickered out. But today, the old helplessness was gone. His body was filled with a new, dark hunger.
As he entered, the familiar, sharp scent of Erta hit him. The hall was a chaotic hum of activity; the blue formation on the ceiling spun relentlessly, condensing the surrounding energy into a visible mist at the center of the hall.
"Well, look at this... is that actually Ardam Cray?"
A sneering voice rang out across the grounds. Ardam looked toward the source. Kerun stood there—Elder Teru's spoiled grandson. They had once been friends, but Kerun was the first to turn his back when Ardam's cultivation stalled, making a sport of insulting him.
"What, back to cultivate those shattered veins of yours? Isn't it a bit late?" Kerun approached, radiating the pressure of a 1st-Rank Warrior. "I broke through just yesterday. And you? Still holding that broom, I see."
Ardam stared directly into his eyes. Kerun's smug grin faltered under that hollow, freezing gaze.
"Nobody asked for your opinion. Shut your mouth and stop polluting the air," Ardam said. His voice was like a winter frost.
Kerun's face twisted in rage, his veins bulging. He raised a hand as if to strike, but the strict rules of the training hall held him back. "We'll see how long that mouth stays open, trash!" he hissed, before storming off.
Ardam found a quiet spot and sat cross-legged. The noise of the hall faded into the background.
System, he thought.
[DING! How can I assist the Host?]
"I need to cultivate. What is the fastest path?"
[DING!]
[Analyzing current status. I recommend forging an 'Ancient Heart Core.' This is a forgotten method that acts as a second engine for the cultivator.]
"The benefits?"
[DING!]
[The Heart Core accelerates Erta filtration by ten times and forcibly expands Filaments into Veins. It makes breakthroughs dozens of times easier. Cost: 400 AC. Proceed?]
"Do it!" Ardam replied.
In an instant, Ardam's chest felt as if it were being bored into by a white-hot iron. He spasmed, cold sweat pouring down his face. He bit his lip until blood ran, swallowing the scream that threatened to erupt. For three minutes, he endured a torture that felt like a century.
When the pain finally receded, it was replaced by a rhythmic thrum in his chest. Ardam exhaled. He could see the Erta particles in the air now—as clearly as dust motes in a sunbeam.
"Perfect," he whispered with a dark smirk. "System, spend the remaining 800 AC to maximize my cultivation speed."
[DING!]
[Action confirmed. Cultivation speed increased by 106x. Duration: 12 hours.]
Ardam closed his eyes. In that moment, the order of the Training Grounds shattered. An invisible, violent vacuum formed around Ardam. The Erta didn't just flow; it was dragged into him like a surging vortex.
The Core in his heart ignited like an eternal flame. The energy tore through his body, shattering every bottleneck in its path.
[DING!]
[3rd Erta Vein opened!]
[DING! 4th Erta Vein opened! Host has reached the Warrior Rank!]
Two hours passed. One by one, the other disciples stopped their training. They looked on in horror. All the energy gathered by the hall's formation was being sucked into a single point. Even the Erta they tried to pull into their own bodies was being hijacked, gravitating toward Ardam.
"This is impossible!" someone whispered. "What kind of speed is that? Is he devouring the energy?"
Ardam heard nothing. His frame was a battlefield of agony and ecstasy as the veins expanded.
[DING!]
[5th Erta Vein opened!]
Time seemed to warp. Ten hours passed. The Training Grounds were now silent; every disciple stood at a distance, watching the "trash" Ardam sitting in the eye of a terrifying energetic storm.
[DING!]
[6th Erta Vein opened!]
[DING! Speed multiplier has expired. Insufficient Affinity Coins.]
Ardam exhaled a long, heavy breath and opened his eyes. "Just one more..." he thought with a trace of regret. If he had opened the 7th, he would have matched Kerun.
He stood up. The old weight was gone, replaced by a sense of near-invincibility. The Erta in his body was no longer a wild river, but a calm, deep ocean.
He looked at the crowd. Their shock and fear didn't move him. The System and the Ancient Core had given him more than just power; they had given him the cold certainty of a predator.
"Don't you have anything better to do?" Ardam said aloud.
His voice boomed through the hall. It wasn't a question—it was a command. The pressure in his words made the air vibrate, forcing the nearest disciples to instinctively take a step back. He wasn't the boy with the broom anymore. He was the storm.